


safe place to land

by Kinvi



Series: whim of the other world [3]
Category: Fire Emblem Heroes, Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Chrobin Week 2020, M/M, Multi, day 6 recovery, i call this one chrobima, welcome to my hell thanks for stopping by
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-25
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:15:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27183682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kinvi/pseuds/Kinvi
Summary: Bonds... It wasn't that long ago, either, that Grima hissed and spit at the notion of them. Saying it was a miracle he'd gotten here was blasphemy. Grima worked for this, and for his partners, and found he was...proud of it.
Relationships: Chrom/Gimurei | Grima, Chrom/Gimurei | Grima/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Gimurei | Grima/My Unit | Reflet | Robin
Series: whim of the other world [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1620364
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16





	safe place to land

**Author's Note:**

> listen chrom and robin both have two hands and grima needs a hug. this is set many years into the future of my other works (looks sideways at them and cries) so if things seem ooc...theyve had character development :weeps: i also forgot it was chrobin week but this worked out nicely so. here you go, enjoy my self indulgence 
> 
> title from [safe place to land](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vvPlRwWowBk) by christian burghardt

Sunrise.

It followed every eve, every night, every hint of dawn. There were days it woke late, or early, or seemingly not at all, treacherously hidden by storm and torment. But it came, perhaps in spite of the weather, perhaps in longing for the weather, and it was constant.

Grima once loathed its apparent mockery. When he laid in his own misery, it burned and jeered at his weakness, his hazy memories that did not feel quite his own. It took many, many, _many_ sunrises before his hatred was revealed in its truth—in his own aching for stability, for something as inevitable as himself, or perhaps more, that could bring _warmth_ and _light_ back from such a comfortable page of his life. Grima beheld the sun as a memento from his sister—steady, relaxing, and forever out of his reach.

The sky had yet to break, but Grima knew what would be. He lay still for a moment, between his partners, listening to their breaths disturb the air around him. He measured his own, deciding they were too lost in their rest to wake if he stirred, and began working to free himself.

Escaping from Chrom wasn't hard in itself, but his arms had weight to them, from all the years of carrying the world on his shoulders. Grima rustled his wings and drew them back, rolling his own to shrug the offending limb off his back. It slipped agreeably back to its owner. Grima counted himself lucky it had gone smoothly.

Wiggling out of Robin's reach was easier in theory, but a far more delicate process. Grima tucked his wings one at a time, slowly, carefully, listening for sounds of disturbance. With a single sigh as the reply, Grima thought it safe to assume he won.

He picked his way over Chrom and out of bed, pausing to tuck his two partners back in. Still with limited room, he boxed his urge to stretch in favor of dropping his cloak over his shoulders, securing the ties at his throat. No need to put his wings through just yet. Grima hadn't made up his mind, if he would be returning to bed after watching the dawn.

He crept quietly from the room, sticking close to the walls, shrinking from the torches casting their feeble light into the halls. He doubted many others were awake, and fewer even from his wing of the castle, but caution still kept his nerves in the dark. At least his destination wasn't far.

Grima settled in the grass, not far from the window to his room. He knitted his hands together and rolled his shoulders back, pulling them up and over his head. His wings stretched in kind, blending into the still-dark air.

But it wouldn't be long now.

Grima sat silent with his mind stirring up wild theories and uncomfortable scenarios. He waited, still, for the dawn to break and wash them away. Surely, such a simple pleasure could be afforded to him, since there were no others to claim the moment. Grima would devour it himself.

Just as he thought, maybe, he could have the time to himself, a window behind him was pried open on its creaky hinges. _Specifically_ creaky hinges, in fact. Grima turned his head, shifting a wing, and beheld Robin leaning out of their room. His eyes were blinking in the darkness, but the sky finally betrayed Grima's dark feathers, coloring just enough to let him stand out. As Robin's gaze fell on his partner, he lit up in turn.

"There you are," Robin said warmly. "Mind if I join you?"

Found so easily... Grima couldn't feel the words forming correctly in his throat, so he only gave a nod in reply. He scoffed audibly as Robin, once given permission, simply climbed out of the window itself. Grima rolled his eyes at the approaching smirk, but agreeably shifted his wings to welcome and enfold the familiar weight leaning against his side. Robin let out a sigh as he settled, and his breath puffed faintly in the limited space between them.

"...What alerted you to my absence?" Grima finally asked, turning his head back over the horizon.

"Oh, nothing from your escape itself," Robin replied through a short chuckle. "With you gone, Chrom rolled over and punched me."

Grima couldn't help a wince. "Unfortunate. Does he wake in turn?"

"He's thinking about it, but he hasn't quite committed." Robin rubbed his hands together briefly before folding them over his chest. "The sky's nice and clear. It'll be a good sunrise."

Grima again found no words, so he settled for a nod and fell back into the silence. Robin stayed pressed against his side, keeping the peace for a bit, letting the sky lighten to a more reasonable color. Grima shifted a bit when he felt one of Robin's fingers brush against his own. He looked to them, and gave in to the offer of comfort.

Grima slid his pinky over Robin's, tucking it between his partner's own smallest and ring. A little smile flitted onto Robin's face, relieved to be welcomed. Robin didn't push for more, and let Grima keep his hand on top, in control of the touch.

"What's on your mind?" Robin murmured, tucking his head further against Grima's neck. "If you wanted to watch by yourself, I can go back inside."

"Solitude was my intention, but..." Grima paused, blinking slowly. "I would prefer this, now that I have it. Your presence is...reassuring."

"I'm glad," Robin replied. "So, circling back...what's on your mind?"

Grima inhaled slowly, holding a moment, before letting it back out in a sigh. What was on his mind? He did not entirely know. Too many things. Too few. He couldn't shake his head, with Robin leaning on his shoulder as such, so he was left with no choice but to put things into the words Robin so loved.

"It is human nature to take one's suffering out on others," he began carefully, "as a way to...lessen the hurt itself. How well it works is up for wild debate, yet it is a staple found every _where_ and in every _one_. Perhaps it is not even just humanity that bears such scars--sentient, supposedly intelligent life of all forms is doomed to such controversy. Dragonkin, despite their many advantages, are not immune either."

Robin gave a gentle hum of acknowledgement, noting that he was following without halting to interrupt for full. Grima curled his finger a little tighter in response.

" _I_ am not immune," he clarified, feeling his spine crawl with the discomfort of admitting his own flaws. "One could say I am perhaps the worst offender you would normally ever know, this world of Zenith aside. I have hurt countless lives, ended thousands more, all for the sake of perpetual revenge."

Robin gave another soft affirmation, and as Grima turned to meet his eyes, he saw the question brewing in the amber. Grima shook his head as best he could, and Robin didn't ask it. He kept quiet, and he kept listening.

"I cannot change or deny these things, for to do so would cast further insult and hatred into the cycle," Grima told the sky. "I shall never be a good person, a Hero in my own right, and...that is fine. That is not my role. But together with you, and Chrom, and Lucina, and Morgan, and...even the High Summoner--with this new world we have made our home...I can become _better_. I _have_ become better. Through you."

"Through me," Robin repeated softly, "and through yourself. It wasn't all that long ago, especially to your lifespan, that something like this...the two of us, sitting here, enjoying the dawn...you would've lashed out, flew away, pushed me out of your life again. You could never have gotten here without making that _choice_ to allow yourself improvement. Without allowing us to walk _with_ you."

Grima sensed no falsities from his partner, but more than that, he simply knew Robin wasn't lying. He didn't need to look into Robin's mind to know what his partner wanted to convey. He wasn't a god in that moment--he was alive, and that was always just enough.

The only way to improve the scenario was if--

"Alright, which one of you left this window open?"

They turned in unison, knowing exactly who they would find there, in the mentioned window. Chrom stood with a hand on his hip, faint scrunch to his nose to indicate his vague disapproval. Robin broke out into a laugh, raising his free hand to beckon the last of their trio over. Chrom raised an eyebrow, sighed, and ducked through the window as well. His heavy steps reminded Grima of a coming storm, and he was comforted.

"You let the draft in, you know," Chrom chided, leaning down to kiss both of them on the forehead. "My poor toes were freezing. Move over, you've got plenty of room."

Grima shifted his other set of wings, allowing Chrom to take his other side, and enfolding him too. Chrom slipped an arm between the middle and lowest pairs, curling it around Grima's back with practiced ease.

Ah... The perfect scenario...

"Your toes will survive," Robin shot back, sticking his tongue out. "Maybe try wearing socks to bed once in a while. You poke me with those icicles on a nightly basis."

Chrom gasped. "I do _not_. Back me up, Grima."

"No, I suffer at your hands twice as often as Robin, given I am the one next to you most often," Grima sniffed. "Wear socks or cease your whining."

Chrom's protest caught and died in his throat, and he scowled down at the two of them. "Two against one is hardly fair. Come on, give me a little slack here? I'm never awake this early. I'm still mentally in bed."

"Unfortunate," Grima repeated, "since you will miss the sunrise, if so."

That seemed to catch his attention, since Chrom turned to look over the landscape as well. The sky had brightened considerably, and through the distant trees came the first blinding rays of orange. The sun itself finally appeared.

Grima took another steady breath, and shifted a bit. He moved his left hand, flirting with Robin's, and took it fully in his own. Robin looked down to their fingers, then back up, and smiled bright, giving a reassuring squeeze back. Grima turned and took Chrom's free hand in his other, getting much the same reaction.

He had them both, in his arms, in his wings. He had them, and he wasn't letting go.

"Robin," Grima murmured, after letting the sun reach the bottom of the cliff the castle sat on, "do you recall those times your body was swayed by my power? When it moved, and you did not ask it to?"

Robin shifted and adjusted his head before answering. "I do," he replied. "What about it?"

Grima tossed the idea around in his mind for a moment, but he had already steeled himself. "That, too, was part of my vengeance. I have heard that--humans sometimes ask themselves, when they are hurt, when they are driven to hurt others, what they had done to deserve such a thing. What god had they angered, what force of karma was so great as to swallow them up so entirely. If a god would ask that question in return, what would the answer be for one who is above karma, on the top stair already?"

Robin blinked, raising his head off Grima's shoulder to consider it more clearly. "I can't say that I would know," he confessed. "I didn't choose godhood, when it was offered. We went down separate paths, but look at us now. We managed to meet back up here, didn't we?"

"We did," Chrom added. "Our bonds are what give us strength. Whatever it is haunting you, you aren't alone anymore."

Bonds... It wasn't that long ago, either, that Grima hissed and spit at the notion of them. Saying it was a miracle he'd gotten here was blasphemy. Grima worked for this, and for his partners, and found he was...proud of it. Proud of himself.

"You still remain the biggest fool I have ever met," Grima replied, nudging Chrom with an elbow. "But...you are correct, even still. I would have the two of you nowhere but my side, come what may. If we must dance to silent music, I am glad to be dancing with both of you."

And with the warmth of his partners, Grima could breathe again.

The sun was up, inevitably. Over and over, it would still be there--and Grima would greet it, thankfully, for the steps it had helped him take.

And for the socks he was going to need to find.


End file.
